There Was A Time
by accio-prongs
Summary: Lily Evans is confused. Confused about the end of her friendship with Severus Snape. Confused about the end of her relationship with her sister. And, as always, confused about James Potter. -One-shot-


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.**

**There Was A Time**

What in the name of Merlin is wrong with me?

The towering stack of unfinished homework, consisting of a Transfiguration essay on Animagi, a Potions assignment on the effects of Amortentia and Charms work, balancing tediously on the Library desk, should have been enough to convince me to focus. Ironically, I remembered that I had set myself the Charms work last lesson in order to perfect the wand work.

I, Lily Evans, did not get distracted.

Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I was a role model.

Even the peace and quiet of the Library, usually a respite from the racket that was the Gryffindor common room, couldn't account for my lack of concentration. I thought of the porch swing at home where I used to do my muggle homework before I turned eleven and was accepted into Hogwarts and my sister… _no._

Today, I abhorred the silence.

Fleetingly, I thought of returning to the common room to quell the barrage of thoughts before my gaze landed again on the pile. I cursed it for being unworthy of my attention.

I unrolled my parchment once more _"An animagus is a witch or wizard who can transform themselves into an animal. The animal form taken by the individual wizard is not determined by their own choice but as a reflection of their inner nature. The first known wizard to attempt the difficult magic…" _before shoving it across the desk. A noble attempt really. Damned revision, honestly.

Disheartened, I flopped down on the desktop, my red head resting on my crossed arms.

When I was younger, my sister would take me by the hand when I was upset and we would go to the swings. It was at that very park that I first learned of my magical ability and Petunia…_ stop._

Sitting up straight, I slammed my Transfiguration textbook closed. Madame Pince, the Librarian, glared at me from around a bookshelf.

To avoid incurring the librarian's further wrath, I got to my feet and wandered down one of the numerous aisles.

_Magical History._ Having grown up a muggle, I was fascinated by the Wizarding world and its ability to coexist, albeit separately, with those who laughed at the possibility of magic…and those who criticised it. _Stop doing this to yourself._

I ran my pale pointer finger along the spines of books perched atop the shelves. I inhaled the ever-present smell of old books permeating the rows. Capable of transporting me far away from wherever it was I desired, they had always been there for me. Never disappointing.

Seeking another book to aid my Transfiguration essay, I proceeded to the next aisle. Reaching up on my toes, I wound my hand around a hardbound cover. I removed it from the shelf and startled, I allowed it to slip from my grasp. It hit the ground with a low thump.

Sitting at the end of the aisle in a hard-backed chair, turned away from the desk, was Severus. The source of my distress, Severus Snape looked earnestly at me. His pleading black eyes along with his hooked nose and sallow skin brought back too many memories. And so I turned away.

I yearned to forgive him. For wasn't Sev my first true friend? Now that I thought about it, it had never really been a question of forgiveness. Of course I had forgiven him. Hadn't I always? Against my better judgement, I forgave him for the mudblood incident. For his using that cruel word to insult my bloodline and heritage.

I had tried to bridge the gap. But we were too different, he with his dark arts obsession and pureblood Slytherin friends. He was the first link to my realisation that I was different from other kids, _special._ Which eventually led to the loss of my sister… _stop it!_

Crouching down, I picked up the fallen book. Upon the contact with the floor, it had opened. _"Becoming an Animagi is a difficult process. Such complicated magic has the possibility of changing something irreversibly."_

It was safe to say my friendship with Severus wasn't the only one to have dissolved. Irreversible is correct…

I shoved the book back onto its shelf roughly and returned to my desk. Disregarding the Transfiguration essay, and the Charms work (honestly, what had I been thinking), I opened my Potions book to page 394.

I scanned the information on the Amortentia potion for the section about its effects, _"the most powerful love potion in the world… it causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker… it has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, reminding each person of the things that they find most attractive…"_

Why did that have to remind me of Petunia? Just because she was engaged to a walrus of a man whom _embodied_ the meaning of boring and was the opposite of everything I had ever hoped for my sister who thought I was a _freak_, it did not mean that my every thought should somehow relate back to her. _No, I can't._

Okay, okay, the effects of Amortentia. Hmm… _"__The person who consumed the potion appears 'pale and sickly'… They become obsessed with the object of their affections, speaking of them as though 'hit by a ray of purest sunlight,' and becoming excited or dangerously unstable towards others."_

Is that what love does to people? Alter their relationship with another so completely that they can never communicate the same way again? _Steal_ them away from you?

But no, Petunia isn't in love. I know this isn't what she wants. Then again, she certainly doesn't want _me. _Of course not, I'm just her freak of a sister who she's intent on erasing from her life. _I, I…_

Suddenly everything I tried so hard to block out came crashing down on me. And it was too much. So I did what I always did. I ran from the truth.

I jumped to my feet, shaking with the need to just escape from these constant thoughts. Gathering my books and homework (still unfinished, I was vaguely surprised to find I didn't care. Although that could have been a result of their lack of an approaching due date, I'd always had a tendency to finish work early), I set out towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

Even the rather long journey throughout the castle failed to prove a successful distraction. Which really shouldn't have been altogether unexpected considering this was my seventh year and I now knew all the quirks. I was able to jump over the trick stair on the staircase leading up to the fourth floor without the slightest mental participation.

Why is this bothering me so much all of a sudden? I mean, of course it hurts that she can't accept me for who I am- _she's my sister. _But it's not like this is a sudden occurrence… we haven't spoken properly since I was accepted to Hogwarts, and she wasn't.

More than anything ever has (apart from James Potter because _come on_) this angered me. Frustrated me. Enraged me. She is selfish and jealous and unable to be _happy for me._

I guess I'm a hypocrite then, aren't I? Because I can't be happy for my sister who is marrying the plainest, dullest and most boring man alive.

Congratulations Petunia, you now have everything you ever wanted. You have found a man who is just as disgusted by everything that is not hideously ordinary, as you are. Including your freak witch of a sister.

_Witch…_ Maybe it's my fault that we can no longer communicate like we used to. Can no longer talk like we used to. _Laugh_ like we used to. After all, _magic has_ _the possibility of changing something irreversibly_.

Perhaps I should have listened to Petunia. Given up magic, and stayed with her…

But the thought of that is painful. _No_, I won't feel bad for being myself. Magic is a part of me. It always has been, even when I didn't realise it. And I could've ignored it all I wanted, but that wouldn't have made it disappear.

And looking around me now, at Hogwarts Castle, I never wanted to ignore it. I couldn't imagine my life without magic.

Having finally reached my destination, I gave the password, _golden snidget, _and hastily clambered through the portrait hole. It was nearing curfew, 9pm for fifth years up, and the common room was surprisingly empty.

Depositing my books on a table I sank into my favourite armchair by the fire. The other seventh year Gryffindor girls were noticeably absent, probably up in the dormitory. I thought about talking to them about Sev and Petunia. But they wouldn't understand.

It's not as though they aren't my friends, because they are. Just, how close could we possibly be when I devoted five years of my school life to being best friends with Severus?

There was only one person I wanted to discuss this with.

There he is. The one person I wanted to talk to.

James Potter. Quidditch Captain Extraordinaire. Lead Marauder. Head Boy.

It's ironic that I now actually desire to spend more time with James when only two years ago I called him a 'bullying toe rag' and responded to his usual advance of _'Go out with me Evans'_ by telling him that I'd sooner date the Giant Squid (rumoured to live in the lake). Not that I now wanted to _go out_ with him… Cough.

James always was incredibly popular. Of course I could never understand why he and the other 'marauders', consisting of bad boy Sirius Black, fellow book worm Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, were so admired for their trickery and prankster ways. Although it was _occasionally_ funny…

Since James stopped hexing first years (Slytherins I could condone) and asking me out five times a day, I'd grown to actually enjoy my fellow Head's presence.

He may still have that conceited arrogance about him that I so hated. But he was more complicated than that.

James was kind and intelligent and brave and chivalrous and hilarious and nervous and loyal and _amazing._

And he deserved a chance.

Now he was walking through the portrait hole, laughing uproariously with Sirius. He ran a hand through his perpetually untidy dark locks and hazel met emerald.

Returning my look, he grins crookedly. The same sure smile. His brown eyes are tentative, searching and concerned behind the lenses of his glasses as he parts from his fellow marauder. But they are _alive. He is alive with hope._ And I could use some hope.

James Potter is the possibility, the possibility of change.

He asked me if I wanted to talk about it.

There was a time when I wouldn't have thought twice before telling Potter to sod off.

Today, I merely nodded.

**Please let me know what you think.**

**This is my first fan fiction attempt so I'd love any response. Suggestions and constructive criticism is appreciated.**

**Thanks so much for reading! :)**


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